


Unconventional Mission

by HiMiTSu



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-26 16:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3856777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for an anon prompt on tumblr:  James!Lancelot is injured and laid up for a while. Not used to being in pain and vulnerable, he's a terrible patient, grumpy and restless. Percival, with his nerves of steel, is tasked with getting him to rest and restore his good humour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](http://mysteryismyart.tumblr.com/post/117698943295/percilot-prompt-james-lancelot-is-injured-and) is a tumblr post.

“Why me?”

“That’s not a very professional question to ask,” Galahad admonished but was shushed by Merlin, who came up with an actual answer.

“You are best suited for this job.”

Percival lifted his eyebrows in silent disbelief, restraining himself from more objections. After all, Galahad was right; when a mission was assigned agents trusted the choice to be fair and wise. There was no excuse for losing his temper just because he considered the mission in question ridiculous.

“And anyone else will shoot his brains out by the end of day one.” Merlin added flippantly, making Galahad chuckle but nod in agreement despite the amusement.

“You really believe that to be true?”

When Merlin agreed there was a note of resignation to his tone. “I don’t know how but you seem to have the best tolerance to his antics on a good day, so in this situation…I am sorry to have to ask that of you.”

“But he is driving the medical staff insane and none of the other agents can cope with his particular brand of madness.”

“He likes you,” Merlin added softly. “I don’t know in which capacity and why and frankly that is none of my business…But it is a fact that you can get on with him better than anyone here.”

Percival did not sigh or roll his eyes or wine – because that is not the type of man he is. Sometimes though he hoped he could be a little like the man he was now in charge of.

* * *

Percival could hear him before he actually laid his eyes on Lancelot. He was not shouting but, his usually exuberantly cheerful voice was subdued in irritation with a sharp edge of anger to it as he muttered his insults to the touchscreen phone. 

  
Two nurses were shuffling unsure outside his door, torn before their duty to check in on the patient and their unwillingness to become victims to his bad mood. Percival waved them away, ignoring grateful smiles, and stepped into the room. Lancelot, half-sitting in a hospital bed, looked up from a device in his hands and for a second a frown melted, replaced by a surprised but pleased smile.

  
“Percival!” He exclaimed. “This bloody thing won’t work.” He shook the phone in his hand, back to irritation so quickly.

  
Upon closer inspection it appeared the phone was working just fine, however Merlin had disconnected it from the main network thus preventing the agent from involving in work-related activity.

  
“I can’t do anything!” Lancelot lamented and threw the thing on the covers in frustration. 

  
“You should not be working anyway,” Percival noted absent-mindedly, however his casual remark had unexpected consequences. 

  
“So I should just lie here, useless?” Lancelot asked with vigor. The anger added a new cadence to his voice, one that made him sound like a completely different person.

  
Percival held in his shock at the outburst and used his best calming voice to reply. “It is called recovering.” 

  
Lancelot snorted and tugged at the lapels of his pajamas, straightening them out. He must be going mad without a suit, Percival thought with a shade of dark glee. “So you should rest, at least until your wounds heal completely.”

  
“That will be too long.”

  
“Lancelot,” a long suffering sigh escaped even without Percival noticing it, but it seemed that was the only way anyone said the name those days. “Don’t be such a baby.”

  
“I’m not…” But he didn’t finish; the harshness of Percival’s words got to him at last, making him see how childish such behavior was. Lancelot sagged back into the pillows, averting his gaze. “Did they send you here because of your ‘nerves of steel’?” He asked with a laugh, but it lacked its usual brightness.

“Something like that,” Percival replied, turning away as well.

  
He stayed until the evening, preventing any angry rants in presence of nurses and Lancelot’s doctor, letting them do their jobs. The doctor proclaimed that the agent was healing nicely and proscribed more pain medications, which was the only thing to lift Lancelot’s spirits at least a little, but the good mood evaporated quickly when the nurses came by to change bandages. 

  
Percival was a silent but daunting presence through it all, a mediator between the two sides – his presence enough to keep Lancelot in check.

  
So he was expecting the next day to pass the same way, but Lancelot became even more impossible to handle. It started with him refusing to eat. Percival had arrived just as a nurse brought in a breakfast tray; everything looked if not delicious than at least edible since they were still in the mansion and not in the actual hospital, but Lancelot complained rather loudly and pushed the tray away with force. Percival got by his bedside right in time to grab a plate with toast which slid down and was about to be smashed on the floor. He balanced it on palm of one hand and used the other to remove the tray completely.

  
“Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?” Percival asked neutrally. 

  
“I cannot get up at all.” Was a sharp reply. “If you haven’t noticed yet.”

  
“And that’s the whole problem? Isn’t it?” It was obvious the other agent was looking for a fight, for an outlet for the anger building inside, but Percival wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. This was childish and petty and he knew Lancelot would be above such behavior himself had he been in his right mind.

“Your observational skills are astonishing.” The words were laced with sarcasm and Lancelot’s eyes were sharp with irritation.

  
Percival ignored the comment and shooed a frightened nurse away, sitting down in a chair closes to the bed. “I brought you your morning paper,” After said object was laid carefully in Lancelot’s lap, Percival proceeded to pour two cups of tea. “And you should really eat something. Or do you think starving would help you recover faster?”

  
Lancelot bit back a reply, sulking like a small child, and reached for a piece of toast.

  
Neither said anything else as Lancelot got engrossed in the paper, devouring the international news section, and Percival settled more comfortably in his chair with an air of infinite calm, ready to spend in it the whole day.

  
A very similar dialogue had happened around lunch time with Percival once again refusing to succumb to ridiculous taunts and challenges and bursts of anger from his colleague, so as the day progressed Lancelot’s mood only grew worse. It all came to a peak after dinner.

  
“Why are you even here?” Lancelot broke the silence. His voice came out calm and emotionless, but there was storm brewing behind his eyes – Percival could see it, but wasn’t sure how to prevent it this time.

  
“Do you mind? Me being here?” It was in no way a proper answer and the other man latched onto that.

  
“Really? Evasion? Makes me realize straight away that you are hiding something.”

  
“Merely a question. Because if my presence makes you uncomfortable in any way, I can leave.”

  
“Maybe you should,” Lancelot spat and it stung in an unexpected way.  
Metallic chair legs scraped on the tile as Percival rose up swiftly. He made no other move though, torn between his own anger and cold logic, which told him not to take the remark close to heart.

  
“They sent you, didn’t they? To look after the lunatic in the hospital ward.”

  
Denying it would be a lie and Percival did not want to deceive, but the truth, put like that sounded awful. So he asked, “Does it matter?”

  
Lancelot scoffed. “Of course it does.”

  
“Merlin might have asked me to come by and make sure you are not scaring the staff.” He admitted reluctantly. “Which does not mean I am not actually concerned.”

  
“Concerned?” Lancelot was thrown for a moment, looking back at the other agent with a frown.

  
Percival held a pause which allowed him to scrutinize Lancelot’s expression. It was hard to read, during the last days and irritated frown seemed to become a permanent fixture, which was there still but in his wide open eyes confusion and vulnerability could be read.

  
“About the staff?” He asked with a poor attempt at nonchalance.

  
“About you.” Percival’s previous outburst brought him closer to the hospital bed, it seemed only natural to just close the small distance and perch on the edge of the bed.

  
Lancelot lowered his eyes, fingers running nervously over the blanket.  
“What is wrong? What is actually wrong?”

  
Lancelot’s fingers stilled, hands clenching into fists. His voice was so small when he admitted to his knees. “Everything hurts.”

  
Without completely realizing or caring how the gesture might be taken, Percival reached for his hand, carefully prying Lancelot’s palm open and entwining their fingers.

  
“I am restless without work to concentrate on…But the pain is the worst. They give me painkillers, obviously, but still it’s not enough.”

  
“And pain makes you lash out.” Percival concluded softly. He squeezed Lancelot’s fingers gently, making the other look him in the eye. “You are one of the strongest men I know. And this is hard, I understand. But the pain will pass.”

  
“I know, I know…Just…”

  
A small smile tugged on the corner of Percival lips; there was something sweet in Lancelot’s helpless exasperation. “Just hold on for a couple more days. You’ll get better soon.”

  
Lancelot sighed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. Now, not faced with that intense gaze anymore Percival found courage to lean closer and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

  
“Thank you,” Lancelot whispered.

  
“Anything for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked for a continuation of the same prompt.
> 
> The original ask can be found [here](http://mysteryismyart.tumblr.com/post/117967828920/omg-i-loved-your-percilot-h-c-fic-im-such-a)

 

The flat was large and modern, with a lot of empty space and sleek furniture that looked horribly uncomfortable. Ceiling high windows made the whole place look cold and uninviting so Lancelot didn’t hesitate to declare his displeasure.

  
“I like the freedom of the place.” Percival retorted calmly, walking around the other agent further into the flat, a bag thrown over his shoulder. “But you are welcome to stay anywhere else.”

  
“You know damn well if I go home my mother will be there in an instant. At least this way she’s at the family mansion in the country and only calls me twice a day.”

  
Percival threw him a glance over his shoulder. “I can’t believe she still checks up on you daily.”

  
“Well, you are lucky not to heave a controlling matriarch as the head of your family.” Lancelot snapped back, but then added in a more gentle voice. “Anyways that’s only because I had been wounded seriously and Merlin had to inform her. Otherwise she only calls once in a while to nag about my lack of personal life.”

  
Percival lifted an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips, but held back his reply. He led the way to the guest room, one with the more traditional design, and threw the bag on the chair.

  
“Well, this is more like it,” Lancelot fell back on the large four poster bed carelessly; a sly grin slowly stretched his lips as he beckoned the other man. “Join me.”

  
Percival regarded him for such a long moment, his silence inscrutable, that Lancelot’s heart skipped a beat in hope that finally the man would cave in…But Percival was shaking his head, “I’m going to prepare dinner. You make yourself comfortable.”

  
The disappointment was obvious on Lancelot’s face but he waved the other away, relaxing on the bed. It was a long day, what with the final checkup and arguing with the doctors who insisted he needed someone to look after him while he was still recovering, then packing his things after Percival reluctantly offered his services, and plus the travel back to London, which too took its toll on Lancelot. He still wasn’t in top shape and the fact that so little could exhaust him so easily was frustrating. 

  
He only noticed that Percival was still hovering in the doorway when the other spoke up. “The doctors…” An embarrassed cough interrupted the speech, “The doctors said there should be no strenuous activities for you until you get better.”

  
He disappeared after that, rushed footsteps echoing down the corridor, but not before Lancelot could catch a sigh of a deep blush straining his cheeks.  So everything was not lost then.

  
After that small but tender moment between them in the hospital Lancelot hoped for some changes in their relationships, but with Percival it was always hard to tell. He could be excessively expressive when they were alone but with doctors and nurses milling about he closed up, making it impossible to understand the thoughts swimming under the surface. Now though, now Lancelot had something to build on. And build he would, this future relationship.

Lancelot needed very little time to get comfortable in Percival’s home. As it turned out huge windows in the main area where not as horrible as he had first thought; the house was facing east so every morning whole room lit up with bright light of a rising sun, warm and inviting. It became a habit of his: to lazy around on a huge sofa with a book – perfect way to start the day.

  
There wasn’t much else for him to do anyway, seeing as he was still banned from work. His usual favorite activity – getting on Percival’s nerves – had been rendered useless now that he had his main goal within reach.

  
“I have been here for four days and I still haven’t seen your bedroom.”

  
“Don’t try to persuade me that you haven’t gone snooping around the moment I left on the second day.”

  
That was not something Lancelot felt comfortable admitting to; after all he did some snooping around, though just general scouting without being intrusive. He was bored out of his mind on his own.

  
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Lancelot pouted.

  
Percival paused and put away his touch screen, “You know my stance on the question.”

  
“Maybe,” Lancelot bit his lip. “Maybe not. I am perfectly healthy after all and here you are stoically resisting my advances.”

  
“Lancelot.”

  
Any protest he might have made got stuck in his throat as Lancelot, done with the argument, moved on the sofa to straddle the other man. That made a better point that any argument he could make. Percival’s hands settled on his hips, more an unconscious gesture, as he said. “We shouldn’t.”

  
“Why not?”

  
“You still are not ‘perfectly healthy’.”

  
Lancelot frowned. “I feel great.”

  
“You are not cleared for combat.” Percival protested but pressed a soft kiss to his lips as an apology.

  
“What does that have to do with anything? Doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun.” He added with a lascivious grin.

  
Percival caught his eye, gaze intense, as he leaned closer. His whisper was hot at the shell of Lancelot’s ear when he whispered. “I want you to be in top physical condition…for what I plan to do to you.”

  
Lancelot shivered in his arms, turning his head and searching the other’s lips, but Percival was already moving away, gently dislodging the other back to the sofa. Lancelot, stuck between desire and confusion, could only watch as Percival stood up. He pressed a kiss to Lancelot’s temple, gentle, and murmured. “Good night.” Before leaving for his room.

  
Lancelot hopelessly watched. “All right then.” He muttered under his breath, scrambling for composure. “I can wait for a week.”

  
Then he shouted, loud enough to be heard. “But you better make good on your promise!”


End file.
